A Box of Stars

It's called moping and I'm quite good at it : )

Every so often all four winds blow at once and everyone I love - it seems - is out of reach, physically or emotionally or both. I'm not upset about that itself, particularly not with those of you who've been hit about the heart with the love stick, but it means that I'll have to be a big girl, cope without regular deep-and-meaningfuls and rock myself to sleep for a while.

You do what you can to skirt the edge of the yawning void. Sometimes I hit the gym, other times I write a lot or just go into hibernation. This time, however, I've been a frenzy of origami. Yes, origami. Lovely and utterly,
utterly useless.

I am master and commander of a flotilla of tiny paper cranes, folded and unfolded and refolded until the creases are knife-sharp and I don't need the instruction leaflet anymore. I'm not watching the television, I'm seeing the sightless head take shape and angling the flightless wings just so. I line them up into delicate squadrons. They are too silly to leave on display, too beautiful to throw away.

Sillier is the galaxy of glow-in-the-dark origami 3D stars in their origami box. These are really clever - folded from a single strip of paper, dead flat until the final pinch of the fingernails, when they fill with air. It takes me 20 tries to form the first one, the prototypes blowing across the living room floor like tiny tumbleweeds. They are quite fascinating, these intricate little stars, but what the hell am I supposed to do with them? I make one for each of you for each day you are away, then let Ziggy chase them around the house until I can't remember who's who anymore.

You'll be back, but until then I miss you : )